I quit!

FIND OUT WHATS GOING ON LATELY AT MY NEW BLOG:  DEFINE ME, PLEASE

Actually, I got laid off.  The restaurant I was working in closed last week forever.

I’m not too upset about, but since I swore that Cuba Libre would be last table waiting job ever, I am kind of in a bind. Well, it won’t actually be a bind till I run out of savings because unemployment is barely enough to pay my monthly bills cause I was stupid enough to buy a new car in December.

It was a graduation gift to myself, and I deserved it, too!  Summa cum laude!  That means I’m a badass!

So, I have been forced into a new phase of my life:  just graduated, no longer waiting tables(unless its a last resort in a few months), and trying to figure out whats next.

And, though I obviously haven’t written in awhile, that means no more blogs about waiting tables.  If you have been holding out, hoping, praying, and begging for more…well, I’m sorry.

BUT, I started up a new blog if you wanna read about my personal problems and/or look at some drawings:

Define Me, Please

Everyone Should Have to Wait Tables

IN MY OPINION, humanity sucks and everyone would be a lot nicer if they got treated like crap for six months of their lives while waiting tables. 

This argument doesn’t really hold, seeing as how most people already get treated like crap and they cope by treating others like crap.  What kind of sense does that make?

Teachers, secretaries, and corporate peons are the worst.  As in they are the most bitter, picky, rude, and inconsiderate (if you are a teacher, secretary, or corporate peon please don’t take this personally, I am obviously talking about everyone except you).  I have yet to determine if this attitude is a prerequisite for the job or if it develops as a result of being pissed on everyday.

Either way, I think even these people would be a lot nicer to servers if there was a mandatory 6 months service required before college or high school graduation.

Of course, this would mean upsetting the current system.  Servers couldn’t bitch as much, everyone would have to find a different safety-net job (maybe full-service gas station attendants would be in demand again), career servers would be much more pathetic than they already are, and all the bitterness and human venom expressed in restaurants would have to find a different outlet.

Sincere Compliments

I certainly appreciate it when someone compliments me on a job well done.  Warm fuzzies abound in my heart when someone recognizes the fact I am capable of keeping their iced tea full and takes the time to say “Good job!”

As long as they don’t forget the tip, of course.

And as long as they don’t say it in that particular tone of voice.  You know the one.  It indicates that, for whatever reason, they are truly surprised I know what I am doing (I still haven’t figured out what it is about me that fails to instill confidence in people).

Even worse is when they seem surprised AND sincere.

I’m not saying sincerity is unappreciated (very important when it comes to things like wedding vows).  I’m saying that in certain situations sincerity makes me want to punch people in the face, especially that guy (its always guys for some reason) who looks you earnestly in the eye and really believes he is giving you the best compliment of your life.

“You are SUCH a good waitress.  You did a great job.”

Spare me.

Do they really think I aspire to be the best waitress in the world?  Get a medal or gold star? I already know the assumptions most people make about servers.  Lazy, uneducated, self-centered, and basically waiting tables because they can’t get any other type of job (which is true but because of criminal records, not competence or inclination).

I’ve discovered people expect servers to be incompentent and my ability to refill thier soda astounds them.  Or counfounds them. 

They must be confused because every guest who ever gave me such a compliment leaves 10% .  I suppose since I’m so friggin amazing everyone else must tip me 30%, thus premitting my friends the Verbal Tippers to leave 10% with a clear consience.

An Interview

After much contemplation over who I could interview, I decided on one of my managers, we’ll call her Ms. Manager.  Honestly, she’s a friend of mine, got me the job I currently have (we worked together before), and I knew we could interview over a bucket of beer.  Or four.

Some things to know about Ms. Manager – she’s never actually waited tables though she is a manger in a restaurant, she would like at some point to be a G.M., sometimes she cat-sits for me, and she’s quite direct. 

DISHPIT: What is your favorite thing about working in restaurants.

MS. MANAGER: My regulars. (at which point we spent 30 min or so gossiping about our regulars)

Wayne Tells It Like It Is

I love his skit at the beginning. This happens to everyone everywhere who ever waited tables. All of it. Spot on. Genius.

From TheFrankNWayneShow

Back From Vacation

Ok, boys and girls.  I have been on a bit of vacation from work and school, which rarely happens for me.  In fact, I don’t get days off.  Work or school or both.  Every day.  I know, cry me a friggin’ river.

So I have been enjoying spring break like a college student is supposed to and tonight I head back to work.  I’m dreading it just a bit, but who can argue with cash in your pocket? And there is only so much you can do to entertain yourself for more than 5 days.

I just wanted to let ya’ll know that during my last shift at work, someone pointed to a half full glass of soda and said “I’m going to need another soda soon.” 

I wanted to tell her “Thank you, ma’am, I didn’t see your half empty soda because I’m blind and I just started yesterday so I wouldn’t have known to fill it back up anyway!”

But I didn’t.  I just called her a stupid whore under my breath and brought her damn soda (with a smile, of course).

It’s a Fancy Taco Joint

I work in a fancy taco joint.  With pitchers of mojitos, billboard top music, and lots of hyper-groomed automatons running around on the weekends.

One of my favorite things about working in this particular establishment is that there are very few children.  I’ve worked there for 6 months and waited on less than 30 children.  This is remarkable because the last place I worked was a mecca for the family oriented.  I had days when I waited on 30 kids just in the first round of tables, age ranges 0-15 (after 15 their parents actually drop them off at the mall and they come in by themselves and fail to tip because their parents didn’t teach them about tipping before letting them loose in the world).

No kids menu.  No crackers.  The other day we needed 4 highchairs (a record high) – unfortunate because we only have 3.

And no birthday songs!  For anybody. I’ll put a candle on a piece of pie for you, but this isn’t Chuck – E – Cheese.  If you want a big production, go to the freaking theater.  Your friend you are trying to get me to sing for doesn’t even like you and hates when you make a big deal out every little thing.

Another big plus? They only hire people with experience.  No 18 year old dumb-asses standing around picking their asses while I’m working.  All the people standing around picking their asses while I work have been practicing for at least 6 months and have learned that when the managers show up, look busy.  This means at least SOMETHING gets done besides ass-mining.

I love it because it’s more laid back than a big corporate gig (all I have to say is Secret Shopper), the customers are generally less irritating (LESS irritating, not NON-irritating), and the people I work with are at least capable of refilling a half full soda.

Up Your’s Lady

Because I’m tired of listening to myself talk (type?)…And this really happened to me, except I didn’t think of the snarky response until later:

Unforgettable

There was a table once that let their kid shit on a plate.

Really.  They left it under the table.

We kept walking by and saying “Table 86 smells like shit!”  Well, that’s because there was shit there.  And when they left, there was more than half empty sodas on the table.  There was shit.  On a plate.  Under the table.  Like we wouldn’t find it or something.

I have since considered the possible scenarios these unfortunately disgusting people may have been faced with… 1) they were hiding a badly house-broken lap dog in their coat  2) they had an exploding diaper incident, never mind that they shouldn’t be changing a diaper at the table anyway 3) someone at the table had IBS

But they left it hiding under the table.  Didn’t clean it up…well, they were nice enough to put MOST of it on the plate for us.  It wasn’t my table, and if it had been I still would have refused to clean it up.  Our manager, who was 2 weeks away from quitting, manned up and cleaned the shitty plate.  And the befouled table, the shitty floor, and the smeared chairs.

I will never forget him for cleaning that shitty plate.

Initiations

Sometimes when new people start in a restaurant, the rest of the staff take it upon themselves to make life difficult for the new guy.  My current job is not so hard on the newbies, probably because we have a smaller staff and if you are too mean to them they quit.  Then we don’t have anyone to pick up shifts for us.  Purely selfish.

In previous jobs, however, we were relentlessly harsh to new people.  If you can’t cut it, quit it.  We practiced rigorous initiation of new hires (especially if they seemed a little lacking in the brains department) because we didn’t want any incompetent assholes making our lives harder.